


the sleeper must awaken

by Mook_aron



Category: Naruto
Genre: Everything is ugly and everything hurts, George R R Martin style character deaths, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Violence, I really won’t be holding back on the grit, Reincarnation, SI OC kinda?, Teams aren’t forever, Wow yet another reincarnation fic, adults will die, betcha didn’t see this coming, bloody war, children are adults in this world, children will die, nothing is set in stone., war time era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 13:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18800986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mook_aron/pseuds/Mook_aron
Summary: there’s so little time left now.so precious few moments, between ruin and death and life and the unending shadow of a void she’s been ripped out of one too many times to cherish the experience.(Yet another si oc from me)





	the sleeper must awaken

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I know I should Be updating literally everything else but oh hey 
> 
> Whooops my muse slipped and uh.. enjoy?

Dying is as easy as breathing, and just as natural.

She goes to sleep one day, and her mind does not wake up. There is no fanfare to announce her departure— her breath halts and her heart stutters to a standstill, all alone in her bed. No one keeps a vigil and no incense lights her grave.

Neighbours will murmur about it in the days to come, sigh about how unexpected it was and how she was taken too soon— but it’s a lie. She’s been dying as long as she’s been alive and everybody expected this.

Death greets her in his arms like a lover and she greets him as a long awaited friend— dying is as time worn as smooth rock and she is submerged into the river of death, like a babe into the baptismal font.

The same cannot be said for her arrival on the other side.

Because if one sleeps, one must inevitably wake up.

She wakes gasping for air like a swimmer trapped in the surf for a moment too long, mind tumbled and turned upside down.

The world is too colour-bright and her veins burn like some has lit motor fuel in her skin and her cries come out as a wail too high-pitched to belong to her— every movement of the warm hands beneath her sends mind-numbing terror through her. She’s cradled and moved effortlessly through the air, so dangerously close to falling and so far at the same time.

The world is white-brown-tan-black-blue— the colours blur and fade and collapse in on each other, faces too close and too far at the same time that sway into her vision. She cries, wails and tears her lungs open to scream her indignation because she doesn’t believe in this reincarnation schtick. She’d expected the black void of philosophical numbness that should’ve awaited her.

And she does not want to love this woman who holds her close, does not want to find comfort in her touch and love in her eyes— but she can feel her weakness unfurling already, treacherous thorns sinking into her sides.

Sara always loved so easy and so fast.

Akimichi Choue is born, first among the children of the Akimichi clan head, caterwauling like a basket of cats and the compound rings with her noise.

Akimichi Sumire clutches her firstborn daughter to her chest and cries in sheer, unfettered joy.

Akimichi Chouza does not see his daughter’s birth, nor does he see her first smile. Her birth dawns the day of the peak of the third Shinobi world war and the chains of duty mark him far out of field, on the borders of Iwa— the same border section where Namikaze Minato will bring an end to one war while a dying child heralds the beginning of another, miles away.

For the birth of a clan heir, her birth has little fanfare in the village— but among the InoShikaCho clan alliance, the first child among their families is a blessing well catered for. It’s Inoichi who holds her hand during labour and his wife who accompanies the midwife. Yoshino prepares Sumire’s house for her return, teaches her how to latch the babe and burp correctly. Chouza’s absence is boldly apparent, but they smooth the edges, in their own way.

Not that the going is rough at all.

Choue is a strange child, quiet and aware and vividly so. Shikaku makes the joke about her being a Nara, and if her colouring were any different, it would be an easy mistake to make. Sumire, alone in the quiet of the nights with a child who does not cry but still needs feeding, wonders if this is her fault.

But she’s happy— smiles and coos and giggles back with her mother’s strange faces, laughs at the sun and the clouds and the faces of villagers who pass by, unable to do anything but return the child’s exuberant joy.

———————   
  
I had a lot to thank for the amnesia that came with being bored out of my fucking brain for the first 8 months of my life, all things counted and told. I’m not sure my tenuous grip on sanity could’ve taken the sheer mortification of dirty diapers in graphic detail— I knew it happened but detaching from reality for several months had its perks.

There was little to do— one could only cling to the side of the cot and walk, mattress treacherous under my feet oh so many times before the thrill of finally moving again faded into the day to day blur of time. And it took a long time for me to recognise the things around me, all too long to realise where exactly I’d been landed this time.

I knew much about my new world and I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse.

But meeting my father for the first time, fresh from the battlefields and still cloaked in armour, was a sight both grand and terrifying to behold. He was tall, seeming far larger to my eyes than perhaps was true but decked in full armour, armed to the teeth and wielding a smile a little too frayed to be truly genuine at that moment.

It was the moment a lot of things clicked, on my side at least.

I hadn’t been out of the compound proper before this moment— moved between houses, in small passageways while my mother carried me and small trips to the lower markets. I suppose, in hindsight, that accounted for the lateness of my realisation.

Because those spiral cheeks that adorned my father’s face were too uncanny to be mistaken and I’m sure I caused no small drama when I burst into inconsolable tears upon seeing my father for the first time.

I didn’t want to die in this world too but it was looking far too likely.

——————

Time passed… differently with my father home again.

The war was over and the battlefields had been abandoned for weeks now, the wounded working towards active duty and those who could not, struggled into finding new places in their village. I saw them, when my mother would take me out of the compound— saw cuffs folded strategically over empty-hanging space, eyes that tightened at movement and flinched at unexpected sounds and eyes that had no soul.

They terrified me the most.

The Akimichi household was warm and lively in comparison, various clan members always filling the hallways and streets with noise. Food especially was never in short supply— day after day, the kitchen produced the smells of food so tantalizing that I cursed the fact I wasn’t on full solids yet. Just another reminder of my position in this world— and just how untenable it was.

But my father— it was certainly new for me.

I had never known a father, not in the life before this and it was… odd.

He would take the early morning shift, always a sense of guilt for lost time and the stress it had placed on my mother apparent in him, curling me up in one arm and brewing coffee in the morning. He would talk to me as he sat in his study, repeat facts from the reports on the clan and village relations— numbers and statistics and names, all of which I absorbed readily and happily. It kept my mind focused— kept me from complete boredom in those months.

It also provided an opportunity to babble things that might eventually be important— information that gave me some small insight into the time period I’d arrived in. I knew I was sometime before the kyuubi attacked— but how far before was an unknown, outside of snippets of information I pieced together as I went.

Information like the fact my team was designed from the get go— my father chatted to himself about the heirs of the other clans in our alliance, names that were far too familiar for comfort.

I’d been a writer, once upon a time. I knew how main characters usually ended up and I knew this particular story well. I knew the usual endings of tight knit childhood friendships and bonds far above those— the inoshikacho trio was far more than a team and tying myself to them would mean tying myself into a world I didn’t know yet and a future that was uncertain.

And it was uncertain— I had taken the place of a child who never be born now for all I knew and I was it.

Being born into what essentially was a military-dictated society hadn’t exactly been on my wishlist of potential afterlife options after all.

So there were several paths that opened up to me at that point of realisation.

One, I could sit tight and let the plot unfold. Be the best Chouji-type impersonator I could be and hope to heaven that the story stayed as it had in what I could remember of the original series.

I didn’t have too much faith in that particular plan, and it wasn’t a life I desired particularly much. That timeline had too many deaths I knew were preventable and at least two had become lives I would protect against anything.

Option two remained that I leave the plot and it’s options behind as soon as possible.

While tempting, still not really tenable.

And lastly, I could do what I wanted and save those I wanted and damn the consequences.

A year into my new life, messing with a story that would result in pain for those I loved— well, that sounded like far and away my best option.

—————

The Yamanaka, I would soon realise, were masters of elaborate social bullshit.

Even at the tender age of five, Yamanaka Inobe could wind every adult and child within a room so tight around his little finger that they would apologize for sneezing. It was a marvel to see, truly and I perhaps could have appreciated it far more quickly if he hadn’t decided within a fifteen minute period that he found me far too weird to be left alone and glued himself to my side for the next indeterminate time period.

I loved this boy already but god, he could knatter the ear of the Buddha statue clean off with inane chatter.

And while Shikai was far more my speed in terms of friendship, sassy and smart and didn’t require me to talk too much, Inobe was far too much for him and it just went around in a loop of who could bear to be socially active for longer— which usually ended up being me. Shikamaru had a handy -annoying- talent of disappearing moments before the blonde Yamanaka burst into the room and I envied him.

Grinning at the blonde boy in the doorway of my room, I merely offered him a biscuit from the tray that Shikai had promptly abandoned and giggled a little as Inobe sat down in a huff on a recently abandoned pillow.

“You just missed Shikai— he leapt out the window to avoid you this time. I think his dad’s been teaching him the secret Nara ‘Yamanaka avoiding no jutsu’.”

Inobe merely grumbled under his breath and I only caught a few words, far too vulgar to really be at ease in a child’s mouth and I nudged his side with my elbow, lest my mother catch any of language Inobe had seemingly picked up. “You know my mum will murder us both if she hears you like that and she won’t bake us anything good for lunch!”

Inobe’s complaints abruptly ended at that and he stuck his tongue out cheekily, though a little shaky now. Akimichi Sumire was a merchant by birth and it seemed to be an ingrained talent for terrorizing all who stood in her path etched into her family line, one such that even Inobe to wouldn’t talk back or cross her, even over a few crass words.

“Fine, but you have to help me track Shikai down— Dad finally helped me learn the first team kata and I know he already knows it, so I want to practice it!”

It took a few moments but the thrill of Inobe’s progress finally registered in my mind and I knew I was practically vibrating on the spot now. I’d cajoled and wheedled at Inobe to learn that damn sequence for months and he knew it would make me comply with his request to track down our recalcitrant third.

Munching on a biscuit to gather my thoughts, I reflected on the past few years— obscured just a little by the passage of time and how early childhood warped even clear memories. I still remembered the first meeting of the other heirs— plunked down among babes and not so subtly edged towards two others— many children were born in the few years after the war, as families and clans recovered as quickly as possible and clan heads sought to continue their lines as soon as possible.

It was a little painful to think of myself as a child my parents had as a duty but it was an unfortunate truth. My parents loved me dearly, tenderly and with much affection— but I still was a child who came years before they were ready for one. Mum was younger than I had assumed at first— only nineteen when I was born and Dad was only in his early-twenties.

He’d originally been the third son of the previous head, my grandfather but war had taken many of the older generations of the Akimichi clan over the years. By the end of the first year of the second Shinobi war, my father was the oldest living child of the Akimichi main family and the heir apparent. Months later saw him take control of the clan after my grandfather’s death in a border skirmish, along with my grandmother and one of my uncles.

  
Dad hadn’t wanted to be a clan leader— which made him an exceptionally good one, as such things usually went.

Inobe’s clicking fingers (a skill level I hadn’t managed to pick up in either life so far) in front of my eyes brought me out of my deep thoughts and I scowled, matching the annoyance on his face by instinct. “You haven’t listened to a word I said have you?”

Taking another biscuit from the tray, I shrugged and bit into the flaky sweet, not at all bothered. “None at all.”

I can’t hide a grin at Inobe’s aggrieved sigh and our exchange quickly dissolves into giggles as he catches onto my humour.

Shifting forward onto my knees and hopping up a moment later, I grabbed the empty tray to take back to the kitchen. “If we’re heading out, I gotta let Mum know and see if I can borrow some of the training kunai.”

Inobe nods and I tune out some of the chatter that inevitably spills out as we head downstairs, the paths well worn from our usual exploits. For all that Shikai is lazy, he has a mischievous streak a mile wide and it burns hot if stoked well— something that for sure had brought some grief to our parents over the last year.

  
Speaking of, the sounds of our descent had obviously reached my mother, who accepted my empty tray with a smile and an inquiring look as she stepped back into the kitchen. “Are you two off to find Shikai-kun? I heard him rattle along the roof not too long after Inobe-kun arrived, so I guessed you would be off after him.”

I nodded as I slipped my sandals onto my feet, grimacing inwardly at the clunky shoes and cursing that the shinobi world hadn’t seemed to have invented sneakers yet. I spent an inordinate amount of time cursing ugly sandals in this life.

“We’re gonna go track him down because Inobe-kun finally learned the kan-sequence and I want to see if we can get him to agree to practice before his dad makes him next week!” Mum nodded along with my rambling explanation, stirring a bowl of what had to be udon dough— an auspicious hint as to her dinner plans and subsequent deliciousness. “Good plan, dear. I’ve packed you a lunch to share, with a thermos for tea. There’s the usual warming seal on the lid, and don’t let Shikai-kun mess with it this time please. Choure-san was annoyed to redo her work again and I’ve already made far too much mochi in my life to appease your grandmother.”

I grinned back, knowing that my grandmother did indeed have a tendency to become cantankerous at the drop of a hat. “Yes Mum!”

I dragged Inobe out of the kitchen before he could really catch up and snagged our usual lunch pack from beside the door before we burst out into the Akimichi grounds Main Street. By the time we made it out of the compound, I’d had at least 3 pork buns foisted on me by my aunt and a few pieces of strawberry— which Inobe and I inhaled in the time it took to find our wayward fated teammate.

We ended finding him napping in a tree, close to the Nara training grounds on the east wall of the village. We weren’t really allowed any further into the Nara clan forest, seeing as it delved far out of the village proper but we knew our way enough to find Shikai’s ‘secret’ napping place.

By the time Inobe’s voice echoed in the clearing, Shika had already dropped into a slouch at the base of his tree. “Neeee… couldn’t you have given me at least an hour to nap before we had to do something?”

Inobe scoffed, his hands resting on his hips and cuffs rolled up to his elbows. “And let you keep being lazy forever? Not on my watch, though I’m sure Choue-chan wouldn’t let it happen it either!”

At the askance look Shikai shoots me, I shrug and grin as I slide my hands into my pockets in an attempt to hide my excitement. “He learned the kan-sequence— you think I’d miss this chance?”

Shikai isn’t too good at his poker face yet and his eyes widen just enough for me to know he’s hooked on the idea and I nod, self satisfied. “Exactly! We should practice before we do it team training— if we do it well, they might show us the next one AND we might get a half session instead, which means we get a free Sunday afternoon to do nothing!”

A free afternoon to do nothing is Shikai’s cup of tea and I can see the exact moment his brain meets up the cogs to find the same idea, his back straightening into what almost counts as a disciplined form. “Fine, but this is troublesome and both of you are troublesome.”

I’m already too caught up in highfiving Inobe in victory to do anything but poke my tongue out at Shikai’s cheekiness.

By the time we take a break, we’re flushed with sweat and red-face grinning at each other in the dappled light of the trees. Snacking on apples and laughing like children do, it’s a moment that feels like victory.

 

  
  


 

 


End file.
